


Heels, Needles, and a Cross

by Diary



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Families of Choice, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Late Night Conversations, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Multiple, Period Typical Attitudes, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Repost. A look at Thomas Wolsey and Joan Larke. Complete.





	Heels, Needles, and a Cross

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Tudors.

"Joan, really, you are not only being quite childish, but you are potentially putting lives in danger."

Holding the papers over the fireplace, Joan looks at him with firm eyes. "May God have mercy on me, but I care more about your life than these peoples. So help me, love, if you don't remove your shirt and lie down this minute, all these pleas for justice will meet the fire."

"Joan-"

Her hand lowers towards the fire.

"May I just remind you that you and your cousin were once in need of-"

"You may. But I will remind you that I never asked for your help. Nor did Bess. I just got the wrong office, tried to kill you with my shoes, and you wouldn't let me leave until you had heard my case. Now, last warning: Bed or fire."

Holding up his hands with a sigh, Thomas starts to remove his shirt.

He wonders why he ever thought convincing Joan to live with him was a good idea.

At the time, he'd thought he'd take care of her. She was always running herself ragged with helping her father and brother run the Larke inn, and later, looking after their son. Until she had Thomas Wynter, she refused to take any money. 'I'm your lover, not your whore,' she repeatedly told him. Then, when their son had come, she accepted some to help provide for him decently, but she was firm on how much she would take and on what she would use it for.

Thomas had thought her moving in and getting her convince her father to accept money every now-and-then would make her life easier. And it had, but her choice of how to use her free time usually involved distracting him from his work.

Once he's laid down, he feels her settle on top of his bottom. A finger gently prods his back. "Oh, love, your back tells such a story. Hard or soft?"

"Hard."

She begins with one of the biggest knots. "If you're so concerned with your position, why don't you give up your vows, Thomas? You're so good at law that the King and Lord More would both gladly help you be barred. We could get married and move to a town away from the court. You could set up a practise."

"There are times when I am very tempted, my dear." He groans as she hits a particularly tense spot. "That one is going to need more work. But a lawyer can't remove the truly terrible priests as a cardinal can."

The thought of Joan in a wedding dress and his ring being slipped onto her finger has more than once taunted him with the fact such happiness can never be.

Leaning down, she kisses his ear. "That's all well and good, but you must stop working every waking minute. I'm soon going to be needing more attention. And you're going to need to be in good enough shape to outrun my father's knife."

For a moment, the statement confuses him, but when it does register, his body automatically relaxes. "Joan?"

She nuzzles his neck. "I hope you don't mind a daughter, my love."

Carefully rolling over, he brings his hands to his face. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Smiling, she kisses him and guides his hand to her stomach. "The midwife thinks I'm about two months along."

0

Thomas cannot believe he's sinking so low as to break into a house.

Squeezing through the window, he mutters, "Truly, I have no shame."

Joan had sent back his grandmother's necklace and informed via letter him she no longer wanted to see him.

If a woman had done this to any other man, Thomas would tell the man not to do anything foolish and simply accept the relationship's termination.

So, why, he wonders, am I not taking my own advice? It's good advice. Men who don't follow such advice are dangerous idiots.

Closing the window, he tenses at the sudden sharpness against his neck.

"Who are you," Joan demands.

"Thomas Wolsey. Joan, would you please put down the- is that a needle, I feel?"

"Thomas?" The needle is withdrawn, and light fills the room. "Cardinal Wolsey, what in the name of the blessed Mary are you doing breaking into a girl's window?"

"A better question is: A needle? You rely on a needle to protect yourself from intruders?"

"If you'd ever sewed, sir, you'd find how quick a needle can prick. And how exactly is that a better question?"

"I suppose so. As for my breaking into your window, I do realise the rather unfortunate implications behind such an action."

"Putting all that aside, do you have any idea how lucky you are that my only sibling no longer lives here? Or that I'm not a screamer when it comes to danger?"

He sits down. "If you turn me away, this will be the last foolish thing I do because of you. But, Joan, I beg you: Tell me why you've, with no warning, decided to end our relationship?"

Taking a deep breath, she turns away from him. "I saw a pretty woman leaving your bedchambers last week. I came to the castle to surprise you. She left in a nightgown."

Trying not to sigh, he can't help but roll his eyes. "My dear, Lady Parker found out that night she was with child. If you ask any regular inhabitant of the palace, they'll tell you that her running around in a nightgown is one of the least interesting fashion choices she's ever made. Quite frankly, Lady Parker is a bit mad. Harmless, but mad. She wanted me to bless her preborn babe and promise to baptise it once it's born."

Standing, he places an arm around her. "I swear to you and God: Nothing inappropriate, with the exception of her wearing a nightgown in public, happened. I said a prayer for her babe, promised I would baptise the child if I was in England when it was born, and blessed her. She thanked me, kissed my cheek, and left."

She leans back against him. "I think I might be in love with you. And I'm really not sure what my thoughts and feeling to the future were when started sharing your bed, but it probably wasn't that. You're not under any obligation to possibly love me, and I'll understand. But for my own sake, I can't continue whatever this is if the possibility isn't even there." She turns. "This isn't me giving you an ultimatum or trying to guilt you, Thomas. It's just, if we have different- paths, I suppose, it's best for us to just say thank you for the fond memories, wish the other luck, and move on to our own lives."

Smiling, Thomas pulls her back against him. "My dear, I just broke into a window. I've been attacked with heeled shoes and a needle, the latter of which, I will have more to say about. If I didn't think our relationship was worth all that, I wouldn't have started courting you after the heel incident, and I would have just accepted your letter and moved on."

0

"Cardinal Wolsey?"

Maybe, if he doesn't answer, More will just-

Light fills the darkened room.

It was worth the thought, he sourly tells himself.

"Thomas, I'm rather busy, at the moment. If you would kindly leave me to be," he says.

"Busy sitting in a darkened room, Cardinal?"

Thomas sighs. "I'm going to be a father."

"Yes, I've heard." More sits down. "How is Mistress Larke?"

Shrugging, Wolsey downs a cup of ale. "Oh, she's in labour."

If his mood weren't so dark, Wolsey would find the subtle expressions playing across More's face hilarious. "Mistress Larke is in labour, and you are sitting in a dark room, drinking."

As usual, his tone manages to be fairly neutral despite the subtle air of judgement. He often wonders if More’s decision not to take vows makes the less holy safer or more damned.

For a few moments, there's silence.

"What's behind this, Cardinal? The breaking of your vows of celibacy? Or something else?"

He pours some more ale. "My father was very talented with a knife."

More nods. "Yes, you've said before he was one of the best butchers in town."

Scoffing, he says, "Look at me, Thomas. I'm a butcher's son made good. And now, I'm about to be father to a bastard."

"You love Mistress Larke. And putting aside my disagreement with some of the circumstances this child was conceived under, I do believe that having a child with a woman you love, who loves you back, is fundamentally a good thing."

"Truly, you are an idealistic fool."

"I am a father, Cardinal. And I'll be the first to tell you that there are times I wonder if I should be. Children can, and often do, do abhorrent things; they always need or want something; and often, they don't believe in sleep. Things can be especially frustrating when they are no longer technically children but still your child."

"However," he reaches over and takes Thomas's cup from him, "it's not merely emotive language to say that a child's laugh can cure a dark mood. Children sometimes do the kindest things, things that very few adults would think to do. But ultimately, good or bad, when you see a person, one you've helped create, either through carnal means or simply by loving and supporting them, you feel great love. Love that gives you some idea what God must feel for us."

"Go to Mistress Larke; see your child's arrival into the world. Believe me, you'll regret it if you don't."

0

Samuel Larke reaches over to get some pepper.

"Oh, for the love of the blessed Mary!" Joan slams her drink down. "I'm not a whore, and considering how close Samuel and I came to being bastards, you have no right to judge."

Pouring some of the pepper on his food, he says, "I've been saving up a dowry for you for years, Joanie. And whether you truly are the cardinal's whore or not doesn't matter. People will certainly think you are, especially, men who might have otherwise married you."

She sighs. "Papa, I don't need to be married. I'm happy staying here and helping you." Taking his hand, she says, "I know- I know. With Samuel and his brothers-in-law, there isn't much I can realistically do to help with the inn. But I don't mind taking care of you. Thomas and I- I really like him, Papa. And until he started seeing me, you did, too. Ever since he convinced the King to initiate the new court system, you've considered him something of a hero."

Shaking his head, Samuel squeezes her hand. "You're a good daughter, Joanie. You may not mind taking care of your sickly old man, but one of these days, I'm going to die. Most likely sooner rather than later with my heart. And Sammy'll never turn you away, but is that what you really want? To be an old maid, dependent on your brother's charity?"

0

"I have a gift I hope you'll accept."

Joan looks up from her place on the bed.

"It's not any sort of payment," Thomas assures her. "In fact, I doubt you could get anything but enough for a meal or two out of it."

Opening the box, he withdraws a gold cross with a small diamond embedded in the middle. "This was my maternal grandmother's. She always believed I'd change my mind about the priesthood and get married. When she was dying, she gave this to me and told me to only give it to my bride if I believed she would like her." He shakes his head. "For some reason, she also held the belief I would marry a witch. Anyways, while I will never marry, I do think she would have liked you. And you're the only woman I've ever known intimately."

Sitting up, she considers him for a moment. Then, she softly says, "I'd be honoured. Help me put it on, love."

0

"Did he really die of illness?"

Pale with circles under her eyes, Mistress Larke Mistress Larke is not as plump as before.

Thomas Cromwell thinks about her family. The daughter and son have both been taking in as wards by well-off friends of Wolsey, her father died a year ago, and she's living with her brother's family now. His spies tell him of how she sometimes hides in the shadows near the estate to watch the children playing.

Looking her straight in the eyes, he answers, "Yes, Mistress."

When her body slumps in relief and her fingers go to the golden cross around her neck, he doesn't feel any guilt for the lie.

0

Like most great loves, it started with violence...

"You lying, child of antichrist!"

Thomas Wolsey barely manages to duck before a shoe hits the wall. Looking up and seeing it embedded in the wall, he gulps.

"Come out from there, you bloody, raping, babe-killing-"

When Thomas cautiously emerges from under the desk, the unknown woman cuts off her tirade, gasps, and crosses herself. "Forgive me, Father." Falling to her knees, she bows her head.

Knowing this likely isn't a good idea, he edges towards the girl. "Am I the one you wished to kill, my child?"

"No, Father." She doesn't look up, and her body rocks slightly. "I beg your forgiveness."

"Yes." Carefully placing his hand on her shoulder, he continues, "Rise up. I suppose the important thing is: You didn't succeed. Now, unfortunately, I must ask: Was the King your target?"

Recoiling, she crosses herself and says a quiet prayer before looking at him with horrified eyes. "I would never go against His Majesty!"

Thomas makes the sign of the cross over her. "Blessings, my child."

Relief visibly washes over her, and Thomas takes her in: she’s plumb with curly, brown hair and dark brown eyes. Her dress is common, and her shoes are- Pausing, Thomas sees both shoes, normal, everyday shoes, are on her feet. In her left hand is a heeled shoe matching the one embedded in the wall.

"Who do you hate so much, my dear?"

Her body tenses. "I don't mean to kill anyone, Father."

"Perhaps not, but when you call a priest a rapist, a murderer of children, and an antichrist, as well as bringing a special of shoes to throw at him, you obviously mean some sort of harm. Now, tell me, what wrong has been done to you?" Carefully, he sets his hand on her shoulder and guides her to his couch. "Perhaps, Mistress, you can be avenged without the use of- what exactly was your plan? To throw your shoes at this man and insult him?"

Making a face Thomas considers somewhat comical, the woman sits down. "I would have figured out what the next step was, provided the guards didn't seize me."

"Yes, well, considering how they haven't showed up here, there's a chance you might have succeeded." He’ll have to ask his majesty for better security, he realises. "Mistress, I am sympathetic to those wronged by members of the clergy. Especially when rape is one of the offences committed. Were you," he pauses, "were you violated in such a way?"

"No, Father. A cousin of mine refused to marry his nephew, and he threatened her with horrible things. When she married and became with child, he struck her in the stomach and caused her to miscarry. Then, he publicly called her a whore and said that he knew many men who employed her services." She crosses herself. "Bess, my cousin, tried to hang herself. Her husband's a good man who'd never turn her away, but if this gets out- and we're all afraid she might try again."

"And this man is affiliated with the court?"

She looks down.

"Mistress, if what you say is true, I am firmly on you and your cousin's side. I promise that telling me his name won't result in any negative consequences for you or her."

0

"If you didn't know, I'm Cardinal Thomas Wolsey. What's your name, Mistress?"

"I'm Joan. Joan Larke."


End file.
